


Working as Intended

by kerithwyn



Series: Beyond the Fringe: Tales from the Kinkmeme [17]
Category: Fringe
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, F/M, Fringe Kink Meme, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beaker broke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Untold early s1 story, before Charlie's arachnid infection. 
> 
> Written for the [Fringe kinkmeme](http://fringe-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/) using the following prompt:
> 
> Olivia/Charlie, during S1, sex pollen
> 
> Sex pollen is dubcon at best, by definition. Caveat lector.

Another Friday, another Fringe case. But at least this one was drawing to a close, and Olivia could hope for a weekend to herself. 

They’d finally tracked down the mad scientist with the killer aphrodisiac. Walter insisted on calling it “sex pollen,” since the chemical derived from a rare plant. As if the chemical makeup of the drug mattered to his victims, either the ones who’d died or the ones who would have to live with the memories of their...ordeal. 

The raid went cleanly, right up to the point where everything went to hell. All the agents had been warned about the potency of the chemical and restrained themselves from employing gunfire. They’d managed to collar the rogue scientist and his flunkies without incident; the guy even had the nerve to protest that he was a lover, not a fighter, as they dragged him away. Olivia and Charlie did a sweep of the last room, the one where the chemical was actually being made. Neither of them noticed a particular glass beaker, precariously balanced on the edge of one of the tables haphazardly strewn around the room.

One of them, neither could say who, inadvertently bumped against the table.

The beaker broke.

A cloud of fine vapor filled the air.

“Biohazard! Seal the room!” Charlie shouted, his automatic response followed by the look of dawning horror on his face. 

Olivia could hear the other agents calling to them from outside, but no one broke protocol to open the door. Everyone was safe, except for them.

So much for her relaxing weekend.

Charlie had backed up to stand against the wall, his hands clenched at his sides, his only movement the convulsive swallowing of his throat.

After only a few seconds’ exposure her nipples were already hard, aching. Every movement rubbed her pants seam against the new wetness between her legs. She wanted--

Olivia wanted to lick the drops of sweat gathering at Charlie’s temples. She wanted to bite his Adam’s apple as he swallowed over and over again. She wanted to drop to her knees and take the full length of his manifestly hard cock down her throat.

She’d never wanted Charlie like this. Or fairer to say, she’d never let herself want Charlie like this. He was her friend and her mentor. He was married to a woman who made him happy. And while the FBI had come a long way, it still sometimes felt like a boys’ club, and Olivia had been more than grateful to have a stalwart ally who didn’t want to get into her pants.

From the looks he was throwing her, that wasn’t true anymore.

Olivia felt her internal temperature starting to rise, the first warning sign of the compound’s dangerous effects. There was no point in waiting for the symptoms to intensify. She shrugged out of her jacket and toed off her shoes. “We don’t have much time.” 

Charlie made a strangled noise, and then finally one word through clenched teeth, a name. “ _Sonia._ ” 

“God, Charlie, I’m so sorry.” Olivia walked toward him slowly, a huge effort when all she wanted to do was literally jump his bones. “There’s no time for Walter to create a cure. You know what this stuff does.”

“Read the report,” he gritted out. “Livvy, don’t--”

She took his hand and carefully unfolded his fingers. His short nails had dug half-moon circles into his palms. She wanted to lick the indentations, soothe the tiny hurt. “Charlie, I’ll get you home safe to her. I promise.”

The anguish in his eyes hurt far worse than the fire building in their blood, but the former wouldn’t kill either of them. The latter would. If he wanted to blame her later, that was fine. At least he’d be around to blame her later.

Olivia pulled Charlie’s hand to her mouth and licked his fingers.

Charlie groaned, a low tearing sound, and grabbed her shoulders. He stared at her, his eyes wild. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” she said, even though it was anything but. She went to work on her shirt buttons, trying to hide the tremble in her fingers with the precise motions. Charlie mimicked her actions, following her lead, both of them shedding clothing with grim determination. 

Her work with the new Fringe Division had already taught her to expect the unexpected. The logic in this case was simple: When dealing with sex pollen, if all else fails, have protection.

Olivia had stashed a handful of condoms in her pocket, just in case.

Charlie let out a half-laugh, half-sob when he saw them in her hand. “Gold star, girl scout.”

“Girl scouts don’t think what I’m thinking,” Olivia said, low, and reached for him.

By unspoken mutual agreement neither of them tried to kiss the other, or pretend this was anything other than what it was--an imposed biological imperative that had to be obeyed. But Olivia couldn’t pretend that he didn’t feel amazing when she touched him, and that she wasn’t nearly dizzy with lust when she pressed her face to his neck and inhaled. Charlie smelled like sex and she wanted him, right now.

They stumbled backward, his hands on her ass, her pelvis already tilting up to meet his cock. Her back hit the edge of the low table and she leaned against it, impatiently pulling him toward her. 

“Wait, this way--” he muttered, and put his hands on her hips, turning her to face away from him. 

Charlie bent her over the table and drove into her, no preamble at all.

It was perfect.

She was gasping under his thrusts, the hard length driving into her relentlessly. And then Charlie’s hand rubbed a rough circle around her clit and she was shaking, coming hard, reaching back for him and greedy for more. Maybe this was easier for him, if he didn’t have to look at her face, and maybe it would be easier for her too when they had to work together after they’d survived this. But right now Olivia could only brace herself and push back against him, moaning as her body built to another orgasm. She felt Charlie shuddering against her, his grip on her hips almost punishing as he came, and the feel of him pulsing inside her even through the condom sent her over the edge again.

Somehow they ended up on the ground, miraculously missing the broken glass. And just like the surviving witnesses said, once they’d had intercourse the effects of the chemical started to recede almost immediately. 

Charlie stirred behind her, and his voice was hoarse. “Didn’t...hurt you, did I?”

“No,” she said, trying for her most reassuring tone. A few bruises were nothing, considering, and she had no qualms with the way she’d acquired them. “I’m okay. *We’re* okay.”

He didn’t say anything in response, and as they started to pick themselves up and recover their scattered clothing, Charlie wouldn’t look at her either.

Pushing the issue right now wouldn’t solve anything. She’d give it a day, maybe two, and if Charlie hadn’t figured out how to face her by then Olivia would drag him to one of the agency shrinks and make him talk. She wasn’t going to lose her friend over this, and if she had to tell him a thousand times that they’d be all right, she was ready to do precisely that.

There was probably no way to tell him that she was glad it’d been him in the room with her, and not an unfamiliar agent. And definitely no reason to tell him how much she’d enjoyed it, independent of the sex pollen. 

Fringe cases tended to stay with you long after they were over. This one, Olivia wouldn’t mind remembering at all.


	2. Afterward

Sonia always knew when her husband had a particularly bad day. He got quiet(er) and more subtly attentive, like how he’d take out the garbage without being asked. She tried to fill the silences with terrible jokes and inconsequential news of the day, neighborhood gossip and chatter about a new recipe she wanted to try.

Her best effort wasn’t making a dent, tonight. Charlie barely ate, finally pushing his plate away with a sigh. Sonia put away the leftovers without comment; he’d tell her when he was ready.

Sure enough, after he’d finished helping clear the kitchen Charlie took her hand and pulled her into the living room, sitting her down in her favorite chair. So this was serious, then. Something about work, something significant--

“I need you to read this.” Charlie pulled a slim folder out of his briefcase. When he handed it over, she saw the “eyes only” stamp on its cover. She glanced at him, now really concerned--he’d never brought anything like this home before.

“I got permission. It’s okay, just-- it’s a case I was working the last few days.”

She opened the folder.

The report inside was-- it was weird, kind of like a science-fiction story. All about some strange chemical that the FBI had been tracing, at first they’d thought it was a new kind of meth, but the effects were all wrong. People were dying, but not of a traditional drug overdose. They were dying because--

Sonia’s eyes went wide as she got to the real point. Some crazy scientist had created an honest-to-God super-aphrodisiac. Not like oysters (didn’t work on her) or chocolate (sometimes did) or any of the usual suspects, which were really more about suggestion than anything else. This one sent people’s sex drives into overload, flooding their systems with hormones and basically--if she was reading all the technical double-speak correctly--making them want to fuck anyone in sight. And if they didn’t, they died.

She blinked at the concluding paragraphs, and then up at Charlie. “Is this the kind of stuff you work on?”

“Sometimes,” Charlie said, and his voice sounded strange. Like he was...angry at himself? “I needed you to read that one because something happened today.”

That wasn’t anger, it was _guilt._ “Spit it out, babe.”

Charlie paced around their small living room for a moment, then stopped and faced her. “Yeah, well. We found the main lab of the freak making this stuff. Caught him, shut it down, all that good stuff. Only during the raid, one of the beakers broke. I got exposed.”

It didn’t register for a moment, and then it did. “But-- but this says--”

“Yeah,” Charlie said simply. “Olivia was there.”

He didn’t say anything else, didn’t offer any further explanation or defense. Because really, what else was there to say? It was all there in the report and in between his terse words. Her husband had been dosed with a sex-drug and screwed Olivia Dunham. Blonde, leggy Olivia Dunham who’d been over to their house for Sunday dinner and who Sonia had never, ever thought harbored even the slightest lustful thought toward her Charlie.

Sonia was furious.

For about two-point-five seconds. 

Because the report had been very clear: victims hit by this stuff literally had to fuck or die. Which meant that Olivia-- well, basically, she’d saved Charlie’s life. Even if the method wasn’t approved by the AMA.

Sonia tossed the folder aside, not caring as the papers scattered everywhere. She stood up and went over to him, but Charlie flinched away from her outstretched hand.

That wasn’t gonna fly. “Babe, no, look at me.”

He did, his eyes full of apprehension. She hated that look. “Just tell me one thing: Were you safe?”

Charlie stared at her.

It wasn’t like she thought Olivia was disease-ridden, or anything. But if there were gonna be any little Charlie Francises running around, Sonia was damn sure she wanted them to be hers. She made a “hurry up” motion with her hand. “Well?”

He coughed, still looking dazed. “Uh, yeah, there were condoms--”

“Okay,” Sonia said, interrupting, because _understanding_ or not, there were limits. “That’s-- that’s good. And I’m glad you told me. I’m glad you’re here to tell me.”

She stepped into his space, feeling absurdly relieved when his arms came up to hold her. Maybe he’d want to talk about it more later, and maybe he wouldn’t, and either way they’d deal with it and move on. Maybe it’d even be okay if she joked about it someday, like how it was lucky it’d been Olivia there with him and not that consultant they’d been working with, Peter something.

Or maybe not. But Charlie was here and he was alive. Anything else was just a detail.

 

(postscript)

It was several weeks before Sonia had the chance to face Olivia. But when Charlie forgot his cell phone one morning, she seized the excuse to bring it to him at the Federal Building.

Olivia spotted her from across the room, visibly hesitated, squared her shoulders, and walked over. “Sonia--”

Sonia didn’t give her a chance. She crooked her finger, motioning for Olivia to lean down so Sonia could whisper in her ear. “I’m just going to say this once: Thank you for saving his life. We will never talk about this again.”

Olivia straightened up, blinking. “Talk about what?”

Sonia smiled, her mouth a grim line. “Exactly.”

**Author's Note:**

> As close as I get to dubcon, I guess. Couldn’t stop thinking about how much it’d suck to be forced to cheat on your spouse, so I wrote the second chapter first. And then felt guilty that I hadn’t filled the intent of the prompt, so I went back and did the porny bit. Still not as uninhibited as sex pollen fic should be; for better, see [this one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/277707).


End file.
